How Playboy Magazine Changed My Life...

(Editor's Note: With the passing of Hugh Hefner, founder of Playboy magazine,  I'm reminded of an event that had a major impact on my life)


No, no, no... all of you who just couldn't wait to read this story after seeing the headline, I am NOT confirming your suspicions that you have always had of me. I can hear you right now...."I KNEW he was a pervert."  Well, that may be true, but it has nothing to do with this story.

When I was a young boy slowly maturing into puberty in Dayton, Ohio, most of my friends were one or two years older than me. I always seemed to run around with friends older than me partly I guess because I was the youngest of three boys and well, I guess maybe I acted a little bit older for my age. And, running around with older kids, I guess one of the experiences that we all came across at some point in our lives was exposure (pun intended) to adult magazines.

Did I look at them?  Of course. Wide-eyed and staring. But Playboy was much more than a "dirty" magazine. It came out monthly and for the life of me, I have no idea how we ever got a copy. I do know that it seems that the first Friday after the magazine was in our hands, I generally had to spend a little more time saying my penance after going to confession at Our Lady of Mercy. I think the nuns always kept a stopwatch on me and tried to determine where I ranked in oneryness with the rest of the class. If I found myself running over my normal time limit of having to say a few extra Our Fathers and Hail Marys for some of the pictures I looked at in Playboy, well, I would say them faster or maybe tell God that "Hey, I'll catch these last few prayers when I go to bed". He always understood. He knew He had big plans for me.  I didn't want to arouse any suspicions with the nuns.

I don't think the nuns ever caught on to my crafty way of keeping my penance praying down to the same ole' 10 minutes. Which could have easily been a record back then.


Well, let me preface again by saying, I truly did look at the magazines to read the articles, kinda, sorta. And back then Playboy was the first "sophisticated" men's reading material available. Sure there were pictures of tata's and popo's, well actually, I don't remember Playboy having pictures of popo's back then. That was absolutely verboten. It was just tata's if I remember correctly.

But still I was reading the articles.... Well, those and the letters to the editor, and the cartoons by great artists like Shel Silverstein and of course the Playboy Party Joke section. I still have two jokes in my repertoire that I tell on occasion that I first read in Playboy almost 60 years ago.

The articles were really fascinating. I remember one that was about, well this stuff and the writer was talking about how this was pretty neat and people were going to find it interesting. And then there was this other article about having this something or other and how if you did this or maybe that it would react like.....ok, ok, I'm busted. I didn't read that many articles. However, there was one annual story that always got my attention, and this was the one that changed my life.

At 17, I was a senior at Fairview High School and like many of my classmates I wasn't sure where I would be the following year. We had the Vietnam War looming over us and with it the mandatory draft. So that meant either deferring the draft into the Army by going to college or enlisting. That was it people. Hard to believe huh. I figured I'd just hang around Dayton and wait on my Draft Notice.

But then came that article. That article in Playboy that would change my destiny. The article that simply by chance I discovered in between the pages of Miss April and Playboy's College Girls. It was Playboy's ranking of the ten top party colleges in the country. And, the University of Oklahoma was number 1. I decided right then and there, I was going to college. I was going to the Univ of Oklahoma, a 1,000 miles from home. Although I couldn't even buy beer yet, nor even buy a Playboy magazine at that age, I knew I was headed for bigger and better things.

After that, I always read the articles in Playboy before even looking at any of the pictures. I knew that the written word was much more important than any picture of some naked girl.

I majored in Journalism, I wrote for the college newspaper, I wrote and edited stories in the service. I stayed in the field for some years after that. And now, well I continue to write. All because of a iconic magazine that happened to have some great articles in it in addition to some great photos. And that is how it all began.

I had a wonderful English teacher in high school, Ms. Dorothy Herbst. One of her favorite sayings was, "Every grain of sand affects the tide". I guess Playboy magazine was a grain of sand for me.

                                                                                     -30-

Angels on my doorstep...

Yesterday the doorbell rang in the middle of the afternoon. This usually means only one thing, roofing salesmen or some other contractor trying to hustle up some business.

Although Cooper never barks when someone is at the door, I always take him with me when I open it with my hand on his collar to try and be a little intimidating. His waggin'  tail however always gives him away.

This afternoon though, the people interrupting my day weren't sales people, they were angels. And oddly enough I quit believing in angels many, many years ago.

They were a group of kids, mostly young girls, though I later found out they were young college men and women. They were here in Richardson for I think they told me for some training at a church just around the corner from our house. They were cleaned-faced, dressed casually and most important, a smile that reached across their face from side to side.

They politely introduced themselves and before they had a chance to go any further, I told them, with kind of a fake grouch face, "I normally escort people off my property without any hesitation for ruining my day". I think that might have scared one or two of them. But it's true. Although I am one of the kindest people,  I still am very territorial.

They simply asked if there was anything I needed. I looked at them and realized they had been sent to my home by a friend, actually two friends, both of whom who had passed away less than 24 hours ago. My friends, who I have known for over 60 years had left this earth, without me having a chance to say goodbye.

The young people could see I was struggling when I went to reply to them. I briefly told them about my friends passing and was having somewhat of a difficult day.

Obviously since they were church kids, the best thing I could ask for was prayer. Again, something I haven't done myself in a long, long time. Usually I tell people when informing them that someone needs spiritual help to simply say, "keep them in your thoughts". Saying the word prayer, well, it makes me feel vulnerable and I sure don't ask it for myself.

I then put the responsibility on myself and asked to hold hands, which I rarely do unless at a dinner table and someone grabs my hand and certainly never in public,  and I said "Hit it", which left a look of confusion on a few faces, but one of the girls took the cue and immediately had God's number and a direct line of communication and asked for blessings on Jack and Rosie and all of their friends and family and asked particularly for blessings on me.

I felt at peace. Mostly because I knew it was a sign from above that Jack and Rosie were fine. I knew that their families would be fine. And, I knew I would be fine.

I thanked them for being there for me. I thanked them for reminding me that despite the hate and anger in this country, there are young people who will truly save this world.

I don't want this to be a piece about anyone commenting and complaining about sales people who come to your door. If that's what you read, well, then read it again. It's about hope, strength, and something greater than ourselves.

Thanks for listening.